Garfield's Hunger
by Thatonesleepy
Summary: Based on the viral artwork by artist William Burke, this is a short story in which Garfield the cat going through bizarre changes looking for something to sate his ravenous state. Check out William's art at or through his Instagram will burke.


He was still hungry. Ravenous even. The dog had been good, but it was thin, not very filling. Where was the man? Jon. He was plump. Not far, no, but he had some meat to chew into. The body had stretched. He hadn't expected that. It felt natural, oddly enough. Where was the food? He needed to eat. It hurt to not eat.

A crash. It must've been Jon. Food. He moved through the house to the kitchen where the man was hastily making something. With speed contradicting his size and a sickeningly thin arm, Garfield snatched his owner. Tightening his grip as he lifted the man into the air, he spoke. His voice was unnerving, as if hundreds of voices spoke out as one, it held different octaves and pitches. It was agonizing to listen to.

"JON I REQUIRE LASAGNA"

Jon, darted his eyes at the oven. Garfield's other sickly appendage reached to the door handle. Cracking it open, the sweet meat and savory sauce smell wafted to him. His favorite dish roasted in there. After closing it, he set Jon down. Maybe he will keep the man around to cook for him. Garfield laid down on the floor to rest while his dish cooked.

The pain woke him. The aching of growing. When he stood, he knew. Garfield had grown four more legs. His body had been cinched in the middle. Yet his head remained unchanged. He didn't smell the lasagna anymore. Jon had made him lasagna so he wouldn't hunger any longer. But now it was gone and so was the man. His hunger grew still. Again, his piercing voice rang out.

"JON WHERE IS MY LASAGNA"

Each step was strange, as going from four to eight might be. He could smell the man nearby. Perhaps on the other side of this wall. He walked around it, following the salty scent of sweat Jon had left as a trail. He was going to his bedroom. He wondered what might be in there. He was still hungry. He wanted to eat. Why did Jon take his lasagna away? Now he had to eat the man. Garfield collapsed for a moment. His arachnid shape was lost as he felt his exoskeleton shatter. His legs stayed eightfold. He was in pain once more. As he continued, each step was a piercing thud. The man was close now. He was cowering somewhere very near.

"JON I CAN SMELL YOU"

Indeed, Garfield could smell the man. Very pungent, very appetizing. They were in the same room. The living room. It seemed Jon had not been going for his bedroom after all. Suddenly there was a metallic click-click. The man showed himself just before firing a gun into Garfield's face. He fell over, half-blinded, in excruciating agony. The popping of his legs was loud. And painful. Almost as painful as the hole in his head. So much pain on this night. He felt his body elongating to make room for the extra appendages that sprouted from it. The man had tried to kill him. He was just hungry. So very hungry. The dog didn't fill him and Jon had taken away his lasagna. He started to search again. Search for Jon. He could move faster now, unhindered by the extra weight the fat brought. He skittered through a door, smelling Jon nearby once more. He smelled the fear dripping from his owner's body.

"BULLETS DON'T WORK JON"

He was close. He couldn't run forever. Eventually Garfield would catch Jon. A loud bang rang the air. A bullet whizzed by as he whipped his furred head and chitinous body around to see the terrified look in the man's eyes.

"THERE YOU ARE JON"

He fell to let all of his legs meet the ground and summoned all the strength he could to catch his meal. The man, Jon, ran. He threw the gun down and tried to get away. It meant nothing. Garfield was faster. But he felt a new change coming. He shed his legs with each step until four remained. He grew new fur. His tail returned. The man ran out into the night. As they passed the door's threshold, he felt his bones crack once more. His legs elongated to nearly sixteen meters, turning the spikes one the end of his legs into hands in the process. His body bloated, adding weight to his spindle thin legs. Jon stopped and slowly turned. Garfield's tongue spilled from his gaping maw, letting his grotesque voice escape. He was so very hungry. This man alone would no longer sate his ravenous state. His tongue wrapped around Jon like tentacle, slimy from saliva. The words Jon heard before being whisked into the monstrous cat's mouth horrified him.

"THE WORLD IS GOING TO END JON"


End file.
